Page 27 of The Merger
I toss the towel in my bag and scoot in the chair. “It’s good. I’m just wrapping up a job right now, actually.”
“We miss you around here, you know.”
“I miss all of you. Just not the job.”
She laughs. “Insurance isn’t for everyone, just like plants aren’t for everyone. I’m just happy you found what makes you want to get out of bed in the morning. How was dinner with your father last night? Are you comfortable sharing? If not, we can forget that I asked.”
I move slowly through Mrs. Galbraith’s house with a deep sense of gratitude. Because as crappy as my father can be, my mother always goes above and beyond. Sure, we argue like any mother and daughter—and working with her is a little too much togetherness—but I can count on her, and I’ve never once wondered if she loved me or would fight for me.
And I hope she knows I love her and would fight for her, too.
“Of course, you can ask.” I exit the house and lock it from the keypad. “He was … Dad, you know? Totally up Aurora’s ass. He did manage to get a few words out directly to me, so that’s a plus. But it’s so awkward.”
At least we cut it short early on so they could go to Urgent Care. Silver linings and all.
Mom sighs. “I know, honey. I know how hard it is for you to navigate that relationship, and I wish more than anything that it was easier for you.”
I pop open my hatchback and sling my tool belt inside. Then I drop it closed.
“Do you know what I think?” I slide in the driver’s seat and promptly shut and lock the doors.I’ve seen too many crime documentaries. My head rests against the seat. “I think I’m tired of worrying about him.”
“I hate that, but I understand it.”
“I left their house last night and just felt so …heavy. It felt like I’d been in a fight, and I don’t need that mess. It’s hard enough to get through a day without thinking negatively about myself, and I know many of my friends feel the same way. We look in the mirror, and what’s the first thing we see? Crow’s feet. We kick ourselves for spending too much on coffee. I feel guilty because I don’t call you enough. It’s a hundred things a day.”
“You’re absolutely right, Carys. I’m proud of you for being so self-aware that you realize this.”
After quickly checking my surroundings, I start the car and back onto the street. Then I head toward my house.
“I don’t understand why the burden is on me to try to fix a relationship that I didn’t break,” I say. “Because that’s what it feels like. I must always go to him for dinner or a holiday.” I laugh. “I say that like it’s more than a few times a year.”
Mom breathes into the phone. “It can only burden you if you let it, sweetheart.”
That’s easier said than done.
Although, it is something to consider.Why do I refuse to chase men who don’t deserve me, yet I keep coming back for more with my father?He clearly doesn’t deserve me either. And I know it.Why do I do this to myself?
“Let’s change topics,” she says. “What are you doing for dinner?”
I groan. “I just want to go home, take a shower, and go to bed. But I also want carbs.”
“How about swinging by my office? I’ll order Chinese, and we can have a little office picnic. I know some of the girls here would love to see you, and I want to talk to you about getting life insurance.”
“Why? Do you plan on killing me soon?”
She laughs. “No, but we’re now offering whole life insurance, and it would be a great thing for you to invest in while you’re still young. We’ll talk about it when you get here.”
The last thing I want to do is engage with people, but the promise of Chinese food is tempting—and so is the unspoken promise of a hug from my mom. Sometimes that really can make everything seem better.
“Fine. But can I get ginger pork bunsandMongolian beef?” I ask.
“Absolutely. How long until you get here?”
“Twenty minutes or so.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”
“Bye.”
